


When Archie Turned Cook

by Spikedluv



Category: American Idol RPF, David Cook (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, M/M, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-04
Updated: 2011-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-26 21:51:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David Archuleta was a vampire, but he wasn’t a very <i>good</i> vampire.  In fact, David thought he was a terrible, horrible, no good, very <i>bad</i> vampire.  For one thing, he didn’t have the urge to kill anyone that he thought most vampires must have; not for their blood, nor for any other reason.  And secondly, what self-respecting vampire <i>accidentally</i> turns their boyfriend into a vampire during sex?</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Archie Turned Cook

**Author's Note:**

> Vampire!au; Cookleta prequel to my Kradam vampire!au fic [I’ve Known It (From the Moment That We Met)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/175859), in which Cook and Archie played small roles. Written for the third round of kink_bigbang using the kinks: biting and vampires.
> 
> Written: December 4, 2011

  


David Archuleta was a vampire, but he wasn’t a very _good_ vampire. In fact, David thought he was a terrible, horrible, no good, very _bad_ vampire. For one thing, he didn’t have the urge to kill anyone that he thought most vampires must have; not for their blood, nor for any other reason. And secondly, what self-respecting vampire _accidentally_ turns their boyfriend into a vampire during sex?

“I’m sorry,” David said for the one hundredth time, even though Cook hadn’t yet woken and couldn’t hear him.

Gosh, he _hoped_ Cook couldn’t hear him! What if Cook _could_ hear him, and knew what kind of pathetic loser had made him? No, David didn’t remember hearing anything after he’d been bitten and died, so odds were good that Cook couldn’t hear him now. Not that David knew much about vampires, or anything at all, really, except for what he’d learned on his own. His father had found David too late to keep him from dying, but he had been able to kill his maker with a wooden prop sword while the vampire was distracted with feeding David his blood. Being raised by humans (if only for the first seven months) did not make for a very knowledgeable (or fierce) vampire.

The room they were in now, Cook’s bedroom, was in shadow, lit only by the few stars visible in the night sky and the small lamp beside the bed. Night had fallen several hours ago, and based on his own experience, David expected Cook to wake up any moment.

But Cook didn’t wake up, and the minutes ticked past, and David began to wonder whether he’d done something wrong. Whether Cook might not make it through the change. Not for the first time, David wished his father hadn’t killed his maker, if only so he had someone he could turn to when he had a question. Not that he particularly _liked_ his maker, from what little he’d seen of him in the few minutes it had taken the other vampire to drag him behind the parked cars at David’s school (where he’d been the lead in the school play his junior year) and take his blood.

David checked the clock and noted that it was five minutes later than the last time he’d checked. He’d gotten so used to Cook lying still and unmoving that David was caught off guard when a muscle in Cook’s arm jerked. David pushed himself up off the floor (he’d made himself small in the corner, wishing he was invisible) and walked over to the bed with slow, hesitant steps, where he studied Cook, looking for any further signs of life.

David jumped when Cook’s leg twitched, and then he sobbed in relief that he hadn’t killed Cook. Well, killed him any deader than he was. David stroked his hand down the side of Cook’s face. “It’s okay,” he said softly, hoping it sounded soothing and that his own fear was kept hidden. “You’re okay. Wake up now, Cook.”

David scurried over to the dresser and took two of the blood bags he’d ordered out of the cooler. He cut them open and emptied them into a pitcher he’d found in Cook’s cupboards. It was plastic and had ‘Heineken’ splashed across the side, but it was perfect for his needs, which was basically to keep Cook from freaking out at the sight of the blood bags before he could be made aware of, and reach an understanding of, his new situation.

David made sure that the tape he’d tacked the curtains closed with when he realized that it was nearing sunrise was secure, as well as the blanket he’d tossed over the rod as an additional safety measure. Satisfied, David returned to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. He stroked his hand down Cook’s arm. David thought he should speak to Cook so he woke to something familiar, but he didn’t know what to say that wasn’t another apology.

Instead, he sang. David started with the familiar songs he’d learned in church, then moved on to the favorite songs of his teen years, before his life (and his dreams of becoming the next singing sensation) had been cut short. Not that David was upset about that; he had been, of course, once upon a time, but he’d gotten over it.

Besides, he might never have gone to Tulsa and met Cook if he hadn’t been made into a vampire when he was seventeen and left home (it sounded better than ‘ran away from home’) the moment he’d turned 18. David was singing one of Cook’s favorite covers when Cook’s fingers grasped the hand David had slipped into Cook’s larger palm, and spoke in a voice rusty from disuse.

“Hey, Archie.” Cook tried to sit up, then groaned and laid back down as he reached for his head. “What the hell happened? Did I get drunk? Run over by a bus?”

“I’m so sorry!” David blurted.

Cook looked at him through eyes squinted against even the soft glow of the lamp. “Were you driving the bus?”

“Yes!” David said unhappily. “I mean, no! Not exactly. There wasn’t a bus, but this is all my fault.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Cook said.

“I know,” David said, wringing his hands together.

“You can explain, because I can see you’re dying to, but can it wait until after I’ve had something to eat? I’m starving! It feels like I haven’t eaten in days.”

David leapt off the bed. “Oh my gosh, yes!”

David hurried over to the dresser and poured blood from the pitcher into one of Cook’s plastic beer cups commemorating St. Patrick’s Day. Cook wrinkled his nose when David held out the cup to him.

Cook pouted cutely. “I was kinda hoping for your omelet with bacon and toast. And coffee.”

“Of course you can have that!” David said eagerly. Making breakfast for Cook was the least he could do to make up for _killing his boyfriend_. “But first you need to drink this to, uh, replenish your . . . electrolytes?”

“How long was I out?” Cook asked as he reached for the cup, then said, “Mmm, this smells good. What is it?”

David was saved from answering right away; Cook took an experimental sip of the blood, then chugged the rest of it so quickly that David was afraid he’d choke on it.

“Is there more?” Cook said, licking the blood mustache off his upper lip.

“Yes, of course!” David said. He took the cup over to the dresser and refilled it, then returned it to Cook, who was looking at the smear of blood on the back of his hand that he must have wiped off his mouth. While David watched, Cook shrugged and licked the blood off his hand. When David held out the cup Cook took it from him eagerly and drained it.

“How are you feeling?” David asked worriedly after Cook had finished the second cup.

“Good,” Cook said. He tilted his head in consideration. “Great, actually.”

Cook flexed his right shoulder, which he’d injured playing a ‘just for fun’ game of softball that David thought required more ice than ‘fun’ should. “My shoulder doesn’t hurt anymore,” he said thoughtfully.

“Good?”

“What’s in this stuff?” Cook said, tipping the cup and looking into it at the stain of red on the sides.

“Um, blood?”

“Blood,” Cook repeated skeptically.

David nodded.

“Haha, very funny. What is it really?”

“Blood,” David said again.

“Why would you have me drink blood?” Cook asked. He looked at the finger he’d swiped around the inside of the cup, shrugged, and stuck it into his mouth.

“Because I accidentally made you into a vampire,” David said in a rush.

“What did you just say?” Cook said, pausing in the act of swiping up more blood with his finger. “And more slowly this time.”

David repeated himself. Slowly.

Cook scoffed. “Seriously?”

When David didn’t say anything, Cook said, “What, seriously?”

David nodded. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to.”

“Okay,” Cook said more calmly than he had a right to, given how freaked out David had been for the past 36 hours. “Let’s parse that statement. Setting aside for the moment the fact that my boyfriend _thinks he’s a vampire_.” Cook’s tone of voice clearly said, my boyfriend is crazy. “How the hell do you _accidentally_ turn someone into a vampire?”

David cringed. “I sort of lost control when we were . . . you know . . . before.”

“You bit me during sex?” Cook said in disbelief.

“I bit you before during sex, just a little nibble really,” David said, “and you liked it, and nothing bad happened then, and I figured, what harm would it do . . . ?” David trailed off, then rallied. “I just didn’t realize it would be so . . . so _different_ when you . . . .”

“Had my cock up your ass?”

David flinched and blushed at Cook’s bluntness. “I know you’re upset, and that you’re mad at me, and you have every right to be,” he finished quickly when it looked like Cook was going to interrupt him. “Just tell me what I can do to make it better; I’ll do anything. Except leave, because I know what it’s like to be alone after . . . when you wake up and everything’s different, and I may not know everything about being a vampire, or very much, really, but I’m better than having no one,” David finished unhappily.

Cook studied David in silence, as if he couldn’t believe they were even having this conversation. “You know what I want? I want you to stop this crazy talk.”

David sighed. “You don’t believe me.”

“And that should come as a surprise to exactly no one. Look, I’m going to go take a shower and pretend we never had this conversation. And you’re still making me breakfast, because you promised.”

“Of course I will,” David said, then, “No, no, wait! This conversation _isn’t_ over! I can prove it to you.”

Without waiting for Cook’s response, David rushed over to the cooler and withdrew the two empty blood bags, and one full one, and showed them to Cook.

“What is this supposed to prove? That you put red syrup into a, a . . . bag?”

“Okay, fine.” Clearly more drastic action was called for. It was going to hurt, but desperate times called for desperate measures. David marched over to the window and took a deep (unnecessary, but calming) breath. He pushed the blanket aside and put his fingers on the tape. David steeled himself, and then peeled back a small area of the tape and held his arm out towards the window.

The sun had risen while they’d been talking, and now its rays touched David’s skin. It went from warm to hot to burning to excruciating within seconds. David had to turn his face away so he wouldn’t see his skin turn red and blister, and then turn black, but he couldn’t keep the stench of burning flesh out of his nostrils.

“Stop it, Jesus!” Cook said, suddenly right there behind David. Cook dragged David away from the window, slapped the tape back down and let the blanket fall.

“Ow,” David said as Cook guided him over to the bed and helped him sit down, the pain registering as adrenaline seeped out of his body. “It hurts.”

“Of course it hurts, you moron,” Cook said, sounding both angry and concerned. “You just gave yourself, like, a third degree burn. What the hell were you thinking?”

“You didn’t believe me,” David said in a small voice, “and I didn’t know how else to convince you.”

“You couldn’t have just shown me your fangs?” Cook said, glancing at David’s mouth. David added bemused to angry and concerned.

David touched his tongue to the tips of his fangs, which must have dropped from the pain. “I didn’t think of that,” he said.

Cook shook his head. “Is this going to heal?” he asked, indicating David’s arm.

“Yes,” David said. “I think so, anyway. I’ll probably need some blood, though.”

Cook reached past David and picked up the blood bag he’d tossed on the bed. “Let me get you a glass.”

“I don’t need one.” David took the bag from Cook, pierced it with his fangs, and guzzled the blood straight from the bag. When he finished the blood, David looked at his arm. The pain was receding, but the skin was still a mess. He thought he’d need another bag; he’d have to order more for Cook once the sun went down.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Cook said, pushing David back down onto the bed when he started to rise.

David gestured towards the cooler. “I think I’m gonna need more, uh, blood.”

“I’ll get it,” Cook said.

Cook handed the second bag to David with a thoughtful expression on his face. He waited until David drained the bag before speaking. “You don’t use a cup?”

“I do. Usually. It’s more _civilized_ ,” David said mockingly. “I just didn’t want to wait this time.” His arm was starting to itch, and David wondered if that meant it was healing.

“Is that why you used a cup for me?”

“I didn’t want to freak you out with the bags.”

“Because telling me I was a vampire was going to freak me out enough?”

“I’m really sorry,” David said again.

“I know,” Cook said shortly. “How’s your arm?”

“It hurts.”

“I’m going to clean it. I know,” Cook said before David could remind him that it would heal, “but I’m doing it anyway.”

Cook pressed a kiss to the side of David’s head, then went to the attached bath, which luckily didn’t have any windows. David heard Cook get out the first aid kit he was familiar with from the times he’d rubbed Ben-Gay on Cook’s strained muscles after he’d done something suitably macho and come limping home.

“Get in here,” Cook called out to David.

David pushed off the bed and held his arm out in front of him as he walked to the bathroom where Cook waited with a piece of gauze in one hand and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide in the other.

“Over the sink,” Cook commanded.

Cook waited until David had extended his arm over the sink, and then he tipped the bottle of peroxide. “This might hurt,” he said as the liquid touched David’s skin.

David hissed at the first sting, but it was nothing compared to the pain the sun had caused him. He tried to remain stoic as Cook gently patted his arm and tried to clean away the blackened skin without hurting him more. By the time Cook was done removing the dead skin as gently as possible, they could see that David’s arm had healed quite a bit, even though it was still very red, as if he’d gotten a horrible sunburn, and tender to the touch.

Cook sprayed David’s arm with Solarcaine and then put away the first aid kit. “Hey!” he said as he stood, noticing his reflection in the mirror over the sink for the first time. Or perhaps just paying attention to it for the first time. Cook tilted his head one way, then the other. “Where, uh, where did you . . . ?”

David pointed out the spot on Cook’s neck where he’d bitten him. It was all healed now, invisible to normal sight, but David knew the spot with a sense memory that probably would seem kind of eerie to Cook if David mentioned it to him.

“Hmm,” Cook said as he studied the spot, then, “So, listen,” and David steeled himself for whatever Cook might say to him.

Cook looked a little bit sheepish when he turned to look at David. “I’m not really hungry any more, after . . . .” He indicated David’s arm.

“Oh,” David said. “Well, that’s good, actually, because I didn’t think to sun-proof the rest of the apartment.”

“So we’re stuck in the bedroom?”

“Yes. Sorry. I thought you’d wake up earlier,” David explained. “I’m not very good at this.”

“No shit,” Cook said, but he pulled David against him to take the sting out of his words. “Speaking of the sun, why are we still awake? Shouldn’t we be dead to the world? No pun intended.”

“The sun doesn’t, like, knock us out, or anything. I guess we mostly sleep during the day because there’s nothing else to do, we can’t go outside, but we don’t have to sleep the entire time.”

“So we do still need to sleep?”

“Yes. And eat, though not as much as we used to.”

“I guess we’ve got some time to kill,” Cook said.

David nodded, and tried not to think about how they most likely would have spent the time stuck in Cook’s bedroom _before_ he’d accidentally turned him into a vampire.

“Good, then you can explain to me how you _accidentally turned me into a vampire_ and how it’s not the first time you bit me,” Cook said, taking David by the hand and drawing him into the bedroom after him.

“Oh, gosh,” David said, “do we have to?”

“Yes,” Cook said in a tone that brooked no argument.

David let himself be led over to the bed and watched as Cook straightened the blankets, stacked the pillows against the headboard, and stuffed the empty blood bags out of sight in the cooler. He tried to help, but Cook’s glare was enough to pin David in place and let Cook do all the work while he fretted instead over their upcoming discussion about David’s lack of control.

Cook helped David get settled on the bed with a pillow under his arm for support. Only when he was satisfied with David’s comfort did Cook slide onto the mattress next to him and pull David into his arms.

“Are you mad at me?” David asked in a small voice.

“Yes,” Cook said immediately. “Because you lied to me.”

David ducked his head. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“So when you told me you had a sun allergy that prevented you from going to any of my games or daytime gigs . . . ?”

“It’s a little more than an allergy,” David admitted.

“No kidding,” Cook said wryly.

“I really wanted to go to those things, to see you play,” David said.

Cook pressed a kiss to the top of David’s head in response. “Tell me about the bites.”

David tugged at a loose thread at the hem of his t-shirt. “Which one?”

“How many were there?”

David swallowed hard. “Three.”

“Three,” Cook repeated. “Well, alright, let’s start with the first one.”

“I didn’t mean to,” David said again, sounding like a broken record. “I mean, I didn’t _intend_ to. I’d never bitten anyone before and I didn’t plan to bite you.”

“You’ve never bitten anyone else, ever?”

Cook sounded surprised, and David wondered why. Did he *look* like someone who knew what they were doing when it came to biting someone? David just shook his head.

“How did you live?”

David gestured towards the cooler.

“Bagged blood? Always?” Cook said.

David nodded.

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen, I already told you that.”

“Nineteen years total?” Cook questioned.

“Yes.”

“How long have you been . . . ?”

“Two years,” David told Cook.

“Two years, Jesus. That means you were . . . .”

“Seventeen,” David supplied.

“Jesus,” Cook swore again. David didn’t scold him because he sort of felt like swearing himself. “How did it . . . can I ask?”

“Of course you can ask,” David said, and then he told Cook the story of the night he’d been bitten, how he’d gone ahead of his parents to carry his stuff out to the car and been snatched by a vampire. “I don’t know why he didn’t just kill me,” David finished.

“So you were just a baby vampire when you were set loose upon the world without any idea of how to exist?” Cook said, sounding outraged on David’s behalf.

“I’m not a baby, and I wasn’t _set loose_ ,” David said indignantly. “My parents took me home.”

They’d put him in the basement and covered the windows, and prayed. But just in case their prayers weren’t answered they found a source of blood for him. Turns out there’s a black market in blood, usually the old stuff that’s supposed to be thrown out, even in Murray, Utah. David hadn’t believed it at first, and he’d rejected the blood bags until the cravings got too bad. He’d ripped into four bags, too hungry to care about the mess he was making.

After he’d fed for the first time his mother had held him while he’d cried, tears burning in her own eyes. They’d learned things together as they went along, like the fact that David could still eat ‘human’ food, and in fact required a small amount of it to survive, that he could stay awake during part of the day, and that he didn’t have any violent urges, except when Daniel was being a pain, but that was pretty normal.

“Why did you leave?” Cook asked.

“My dad,” David started, then had to clear his throat. “My dad took care of me; he killed the vampire that bit me, and took me home, and got me blood, and made sure I was home schooled my senior year. But he could never _accept_ me. I didn’t blame him, I couldn’t accept me, either, at first. He prayed every night for God to take the demon from me. I wanted that, too, and I prayed for the same thing. But eventually I realized that the demon was a part of me, that there was no separating us, and then one day I realized I didn’t want that anymore.”

“But your dad still did,” Cook said.

David nodded. “It was hard for me to deal with, and it was tearing my family apart, so as soon as I turned eighteen I left.”

“You were all alone,” Cook said.

“I did alright,” David said, downplaying his own fears when he’d ventured out on his own. Bad enough leaving home at all, but he’d had some very special needs he’d had to consider, namely finding a blood supply and a safe place when the sun was up in each new town he’d come to. It had been nerve wracking, to say the least.

Cook squeezed him close and said, “Archie,” in a tight voice.

David knew that if he looked up at him, he’d see tears in Cook’s eyes. “I’m okay,” he said, patting Cook’s arm.

Cook cleared his throat, but he still sounded concerned about David when he said, “So, the bites? You said you’d never bitten anyone before, so why . . . ?”

“You smelled so _good_ ,” David blurted.

“Like dinner?” Cook asked, sounding as if he didn’t really want to hear the answer.

“No! Like . . . like sex. I could smell how turned on you were, and it turned me on even more,” David said, blushing furiously at the admission. “I’ve never smelled anyone that smells as good as you,” he added shyly.

“Okay,” Cook said, shifting uncomfortably beside him.

David caught the tantalizing scent of him and he couldn’t help glancing down to where Cook’s swelling erection tented the sweat pants David had wrestled him into after he traded blood with him. The sight and the scent went directly to David’s groin and Cook groaned as if he were the one being teased by . . . oh, yeah.

David blushed when he realized that Cook could smell _him_ now, as well. He licked his lips nervously and glanced up to find Cook staring hungrily at him. Instead of kissing him, though, which was what David desperately wanted, Cook swallowed hard and said, “Tell me about, uh, the bite, the first time.”

David leaned into Cook, the better to press his face against Cook’s shoulder and just breathe him in. “It was the first time,” David said to Cook’s shirt. “The first time we did anything more than . . . .”

“Make out?”

David shivered at the rough timbre of Cook’s voice. “Yes. You were, um, touching me.”

Cook’d had both of them in his hand, and was stroking them, and David had never felt anything like it before. “And it felt really good. And you smelled really good. And my mouth was, like, right by your neck, and I didn’t think about it, I just . . . I only just broke the skin for a taste, and you tasted so _good_ , like all the things you wanted to do to me, and I sucked and you, you made this sound, like I was hurting you, but then you came really hard, and then you didn’t move and I really was afraid that I _had_ killed you, but then you moved, and you told me it had never been that good for you before. I thought you were just saying that, but the next time . . . .”

“The next time?” Cook said. His voice sounded raspy, and his scent was _so_ distracting.

“Cook,” David pleaded.

Cook took pity on him and kissed him. David loved kissing Cook; they’d spent their first couple dates just kissing, and David thought he could kiss Cook forever except that the way Cook smelled, and the way he tasted, and the way he _kissed_ made David want so much more. He tried to twist in Cook’s arms and climb onto his lap, but his own arm hampered him. And then _Cook_ hampered him by pushing him back and securing him tight to his side.

David whined, but Cook didn’t relent. “The next time?” he repeated.

David hadn’t bitten Cook every time they’d done something sexual, only the two times before this one, even though Cook had smelled good _all the time_. Sometimes Cook had been between David’s legs and he couldn’t reach his neck, and other times Cook had been kissing him, and other times David had just been too overwhelmed by the new and wonderful feelings Cook created inside him to even think about biting him.

David blushed at the memory of the second time he’d bitten Cook. “Remember the first time I sucked you?” he said, finishing almost in a whisper.

“Yes,” Cook groaned, and David smelled a fresh wave of arousal.

“You smelled so good, and you _tasted_ so good, and you were making those _noises_ , and the blood was just _right there_ below the surface of your skin . . . .”

“Please tell me you didn’t bite my dick,” Cook said.

“No!” David said. “But, right here.” He reached out and touched the inside of Cook’s thigh through the cotton, pressed his fingers to the spot where the skin was thin and the blood flowed close to the surface. Cook reflexively spread his legs for David’s touch and he couldn’t resist sliding his hand over Cook’s erection.

He hadn’t bitten deeply, and he’d only taken a little taste, but when he’d suckled at the wound Cook had almost immediately gone taut, and then he’d started coming before David could get his mouth back over him, and David had gotten come on his chin that Cook had licked off once he’d regained consciousness.

The second time he’d given Cook a blow job, David hadn’t bitten him because he’d been concentrating too hard on the way Cook felt in his mouth and the lovely sounds he made. The third time Cook had carefully asked if he could fuck David’s mouth, and he’d come without touching himself as Cook used him. His throat had hurt a little bit right after, but it had healed before Cook had fallen asleep, and then David snuck out while it was still dark.

“I hated leaving before the sun came up,” David said now, as if Cook had any idea where his thoughts had led him.

Gosh, David _hoped_ Cook couldn’t read his mind! He didn’t know if that was some kind of vampire thing or not. He’d run into a couple vampires over the years, and he hadn’t been able to read their minds, but he was the one that had made Cook into a vampire, and he didn’t know what that entailed. David looked at Cook, concentrated really hard on his brain.

“What are you doing?”

“Seeing if I can read your mind,” David said.

Instead of laughing at him, Cook smiled at David. It wasn’t the sweet smile he usually gifted David with, but something much more predatory. David may have squeaked.

“If you could read my mind, you wouldn’t be sitting there quite so calmly,” Cook said evenly.

David was anything but calm. Cook’s scent had suddenly ratcheted from ‘yummy’ to ‘irresistible’, and David wanted to slid himself onto Cook’s lap and taste him again.

“Uh uh,” Cook said, shaking his head and giving David an evil, evil smirk. “I think it’s my turn, don’t you?”

David whimpered as Cook pushed him to his back and rolled on top of him. Cook kissed him, though David didn’t think the way Cook claimed his mouth could be called merely a kiss. David’s lips were sore and swollen by the time Cook released them to suck a trail along David’s jaw and down his throat. Cook found the sensitive spot on his neck where his pulse would have been pounding if he’d still had one, and teased it with his tongue before sucking hard enough to leave a mark. David wished the marks Cook left on his body lasted longer than a couple hours.

“Tell me,” Cook said, dragging blunt teeth along David’s neck and making him squirm, “about this last time.”

David moaned, torn between the things Cook was doing to him now, and the way he’d felt when he’d bitten Cook the third time. “Y-you were inside me,” David said.

David had been on his back for their first time, even though Cook had told him that it might be easier for him on his knees, because he’d wanted to see Cook’s face while they did it. Cook had opened him up so gently and sweetly. He’d sucked David off with his fingers buried deep inside his ass, and then pushed into him while David was still reeling from his first orgasm. The scent of sex and arousal and _Cook_ filled the room and David got lost in it as Cook moved inside him.

“I didn’t know it would be so . . . intense,” David told Cook now. “I mean, I’d never . . . and you smelled _really good_.”

Cook snorted. His nose was buried in David’s neck, and David wondered if he smelled as good to Cook.

“You were such an innocent. I loved teaching you how good it could feel,” Cook said, “with someone else’s hand, someone else’s mouth on you. You were so responsive. And you made the sweetest sounds.”

David shivered at Cook’s words, then keened when he felt the sharp points of Cook’s fangs at his throat. He hadn’t been bitten since the night he’d been made, and when he thought of that night all David remembered was fear and pain, so he was surprised to discover how much he _wanted_ this. He arched his neck, exposing the long line of his throat to Cook.

Cook swiped his tongue over David’s pulse point again. “Right here,” he said against the tender skin, and then he struck.

David hissed as Cook’s fangs pierced his flesh, and then he moaned as Cook drew on his blood. Now he understood why Cook had enjoyed it so much, the couple of times David had bitten him. It was as if someone had reached into his body and was massaging his dick from the inside. It felt _amazing_.

David clutched at Cook’s shoulders. He slid his arm around Cook’s back, uncaring that it was his sore arm, and got one leg around Cook’s hip. David clung to Cook and thrust up against him, desperate for friction on his aching dick. Cook ground down, and David keened as they rutted together, Cook’s mouth still attached to his neck, the pull of blood like a direct line to his groin.

David lost track of time in the haze of arousal, though it seemed like only seconds had passed since Cook had buried his fangs in David’s throat. He felt a moment of disconnect from his body, and then his release slammed into him like a tidal wave, rolling him over and over in its grip until he was boneless and nearly senseless from it.

When David came back to himself, Cook was sucking a trail of marks down his bare chest. It took David a couple of seconds to realize that he could still feel the t-shirt around his arms because Cook had merely torn it down the center and flung the pieces aside to bare his skin. David groaned when Cook gave his jeans the same treatment, and then his underwear.

Cook bent his head to David’s groin and licked him clean of all traces of his release, and then suckled at him until David hardened again. (Or maybe he was still hard; vampire stamina, he’d learned since meeting Cook, was a pretty amazing thing.) Cook released him and nosed down further to lick at David’s balls, and then turned his attentions to the sensitive skin of his groin.

“Here?” Cook said, licking the spot to which he wanted to draw David’s attention.

David mewled when he realized that Cook was going to bite him there, in the exact spot where he’d bitten Cook that one time. Cook took that as a yes, and David cried out as Cook’s fangs once again pierced his flesh. He arched his back and rocked his hips, searching for a nonexistent friction.

Cook withdrew his fangs from David’s body, then closed his mouth, fangs still dropped, over the head of David’s dick. David nearly came right then, just from the mere thought of Cook’s fangs scoring the sensitive skin of his dick. Cook watched him, the wicked gleam in his eyes telling David that Cook knew exactly what he was doing to him.

Cook touched the pad of his thumb to the puckered skin at David’s entrance, then touched the tip of his fang to the head of his dick, and David groaned out Cook’s name as he spilled his release into Cook’s mouth.

When David opened his eyes, Cook was leaning over him, watching him worriedly as he stroked his fingers through David’s hair. “Hey,” Cook said, giving him a relieved smile. “Are you okay?”

“Mmm,” David said. He was okay. Better than okay, even. He’d had lots of orgasms since he’d met Cook, but he’d never felt quite this . . . floaty before, after they’d had sex.

“Floaty?” Cook repeated with a smile when David told him.

“Mmm,” David said again, giving Cook a very lopsided smile.

“You worried me a little bit when you passed out.”

“Didn’t!” David said indignantly.

David shivered when Cook stroked his thumb down David’s neck and brushed the spot where he’d bitten him. Cook’s eyes narrowed when he saw David’s reaction. He touched the spot again with a little more pressure, and David moaned as the touch created a spark that caused every part of his body to tingle with pleasure.

Cook bent down and kissed David as his thumb teased the spot. Heat built in David’s belly and he wriggled against Cook. Cook released David’s mouth and trailed his lips along David’s jaw and down his neck until they brushed over the spot. David whimpered at the anticipation of Cook’s bite, but Cook only pressed a kiss there, then another quick, hard kiss to David’s lips before pulling away and leaning back against the pillows beside David, his arm thrown over his face.

David whined in protest.

“I think I’ve taken enough,” Cook said, his voice tight.

David realized that Cook was struggling with himself to keep from biting him again.

“I want you to,” David said, hoping to reassure him.

“Of course you do,” Cook said, “because it feels fucking amazing, but you still need to heal,” he added with a pointed look at David’s arm.

It had felt amazing, but David got the feeling that Cook hadn’t only been talking about David’s response to the bite, but also his own. David rolled to his side so he could cuddle up next to Cook and realized he was still entangled in the remnants of his clothing. He tried to drag the t-shirt off, then felt Cook’s hand helping to peel the material away. David wiggled around until he was free of jeans and briefs, and then he did what he’d originally set out to do and spread himself over Cook.

Once he was settled, David asked shyly, “Was it good for you, too?”

Instead of answering, Cook said, “How was it for you, when you bit me before?”

David thought about it, remembered how good Cook had smelled, and how it had turned David on. How the taste of him, and the sounds he’d made when David bit him had only added to that. The more aroused Cook had become, the more turned on David had gotten. “It was like . . . a feedback loop.”

Cook sighed. “Yeah. I don’t know how I feel about being a vampire, but I can see how you could’ve gotten caught up and not stopped with just a taste.”

David hated being reminded of the circumstances that brought them to this point, but he knew they still had a lot of talking to do.

“I really am sorry,” David repeated the apology. “Not that it was you, if it had to be anybody, but that I did it without asking. Even though I didn’t _mean_ to do it. And that I bit you without permission. And that I never told you about me.”

“Well,” Cook allowed, “in your defense, it would’ve been a tough sell.”

David shivered, feeling a chill that had less to do with the temperature in the room than the temperature in his soul.

“Come on, get under the covers.”

Cook arranged them both beneath the blanket, and then turned out the lamp, plunging the room into utter blackness. David didn’t want to fall asleep yet – it felt like they were leaving too much unsaid – but his body had other ideas. He’d pushed himself to the limit; staying awake to watch over Cook and worrying about that situation, burning himself and needing to heal, and letting Cook drink from him. Between one thought and the next, David slipped under.

~*~*~*~

When David woke the room was lit by stars and the outside lights. He stretched his hand out for Cook and encountered cold, empty space, as if Cook hadn’t lain there for hours. Heart in his throat, David jerked upright and looked around frantically for Cook. He found him standing in front of the now uncovered window, staring out it with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Cook?”

Cook jumped as if David had startled him.

“Are you alright?”

Cook merely snorted in reply, then said, “I’m going to take a shower.”

Cook walked into the bathroom without another word, and without sparing David a glance. He closed the door between them, but didn’t bother turning on the light. With his newly enhanced eyesight he didn’t need to.

David listened as Cook turned on the shower and stripped out of his clothes, and tried not to take it personally that Cook was still having a difficult time dealing with the fact that he was now a vampire, and that David had been the one to do that do him. David pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, and waited.

Cook wasn’t much more talkative when he came out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam. “Shower’s all yours.”

David didn’t know what to say to break the strained silence between them, so he ducked his head so he didn’t have to see the unfamiliar hard lines of Cook’s face and slid off the bed and into the temporary sanctuary of the bathroom.

The hot water felt good on David’s chilled skin, and he’d have loved to remain under the spray longer, but he was afraid Cook might disappear if he took too long. David’s first thought when he stepped into the empty bedroom and saw the door standing open was that he’d been right to be worried.

Before David could panic too badly Cook appeared in the doorway with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. With the other hand he gestured towards the bed where a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt lay.

“Sorry about your clothes,” he said, and David thought he might have been blushing behind the mug.

David dropped the towel and pulled on the clothes that Cook had laid out for him. He rolled down the waist of the sweat pants, and rolled up the legs, and they still hung on him. David turned to look at Cook, who started back at him hungrily. Cook’s face went blank the moment he realized that David was watching him.

“What, um, what do you want to do tonight?” David said.

“I’m going to the bar,” Cook said.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” David said.

“I don’t need another mother,” Cook snapped.

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t have any interest in being your mother,” David replied, forcing his voice to remain steady. “But there is a lot you need to learn about being a vampire; it’s not just drinking blood and staying out of the sunlight.”

It was the little things -- the sounds, and the smells, and forgetting that you were stronger and faster than you used to be – that drove you nuts at first. David tried to keep his voice even, but he could tell that Cook was in a funk over having been made into a vampire and in no mood to be reasonable.

Several expressions flitted across Cook’s face, but all he said was, “I’m going in.”

“Alright,” David said, struggling to keep his cool. “I’ll go in with you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Cook said.

It was difficult to not take Cook’s words to heart, and David sent a silent apology to his parents for anything hurtful he might have said to them while he struggled to acclimate to his new condition.

“Can I go with you as your boyfriend, then?” David managed to say with a calmness he didn’t feel.

“Come on then,” Cook said gruffly, looking the slightest bit guilty for having snapped at David.

David didn’t want Cook to feel guilty, he just wanted Cook to not be angry with him. David hurriedly slipped bare feet into his sneakers, snatched up the cooler, and followed Cook out to the truck. Cook drove David to his basement apartment so he could change out of the borrowed clothes. David packed some additional clothing and toiletries into a duffel so he could stay with Cook.

Cook narrowed his eyes when he saw the bag, but David stared him down and silently dared him to say anything about it. Cook didn’t. In fact, he didn’t say anything the rest of the drive to Three Strikes, a pub he owned with his friends Neal and Andy.

David followed Cook into the pub and took his usual seat at the end of the bar. Cook detoured to toss his jacket into the office, then took his place behind the bar. He managed to completely ignore David even though they’d walked in together. David sighed and steeled himself for a very long night.

David thanked Andy for the ice water with lemon he placed in front of him without having to be asked (he’d tried soda, and even beer on one spectacularly bad occasion, but he couldn’t develop a taste for them), and watched as Neal approached Cook.

“How you feeling?” Neal asked.

During the long hours he’d sat up watching over Cook, David had at least thought to call Neal and let him know that Cook wouldn’t be coming in to work for a couple of days because he wasn’t feeling well. Now, David didn’t bother to pretend he wasn’t listening when Cook glanced over at him.

“I’m fine,” Cook said firmly, as if trying to pass the message on to David, as well.

Neal followed the direction Cook was looking and glanced at David, then shrugged and went back to work. Cook followed his lead, but an hour later David could tell that he was nursing a headache. He hadn’t given David a chance to teach him how to block out the scents and sounds that were probably overwhelming him right then.

Cook stubbornly rejected Neal’s concerned requests that he take a break. Andy tried once, as well, and just held his hands up and backed away when Cook snarled at him.

Andy leaned over the bar as he set a fresh glass of water in front of David. “You two have a fight?”

“Something like that,” David said unhappily. He glanced up when Andy walked away after patting his hand to find Cook staring at him. Cook looked away before David could decipher his expression.

Soon after that, Cook threw in the towel. Literally. Neal spoke to him again and Cook threw the towel he’d been using to wipe down the bar top at him, and then stormed off past Neal, Andy and David towards the office at the back of the pub.

David didn’t hesitate to slide off the bar stool and follow Cook, despite the fact that he was probably the last person Cook wanted to see right now. It didn’t matter, because Cook _needed_ him. When David pushed the office door open, Cook sat on the couch in the dark, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

“I’d like to be alone right now,” Cook said.

“I know,” David said, but he didn’t leave. He closed the door very softly behind him so it wouldn’t exacerbate the headache he knew Cook must have.

David hesitated; he wanted to touch Cook, but he didn’t want Cook to reject him. Straightening his shoulders David did what he thought a proper maker should do – take care of the vampire they’d created, whether that vampire realized they needed the care or not. And whether the maker felt they were up to the job or not.

David knelt in front of Cook. “I’m going to touch you now,” he said, keeping his voice low in deference to the pain he could see on Cook’s face.

David didn’t wait for Cook to give him permission, or withhold it. He reached out and carefully placed his hands on Cook’s head, pushed his fingers through Cook’s hair and gently massaged his scalp, which was pulled tight with tension. David pressed his thumbs to Cook’s temples and rubbed.

Cook groaned in pleasure and let himself fall forward until his face was buried in David’s neck. “It was all too much.”

“I know,” David said.

“The smells,” Cook went on.

David understood; unwashed bodies, and too much perfume, and the dumpster in the alley, and piss and puke in the bathrooms, and the disinfectant . . . .

“And the sounds . . . .”

The music from the jukebox, too many conversations going on at once, and that one woman’s shrill laughter that David still had trouble filtering out even after four months.

“. . . and I think I broke three bottles of beer just popping the fucking tops off.”

“You have enhanced senses now,” David explained, ignoring Cook’s curse. “Including strength.”

“I actually figured that one out myself,” Cook said. “I broke a mug at home. My favorite one,” he added sadly. “The one you got me.”

It had been a stupid gag gift, a large mug that said ‘I brake for cookies’ and had made both of them laugh. David patted Cook’s back.

“I was trying to be careful,” Cook went on, “but with everything else I couldn’t concentrate. How do you stand it?”

“You’ll learn to filter it out, the smells and the sounds, and concentrate only on the ones you need.”

“Is that what you wanted to tell me before?”

“Yes. Partly. I should’ve tried harder to make you listen.”

Already David was shaping up to be a piss poor maker, but at least he hadn’t abandoned Cook. Not that he ever would.

“Sorry,” Cook said, “I was . . . .”

“Throwing a tantrum,” David supplied.

“Not in the mood to listen,” Cook finished, then nipped at David’s neck. “Throwing a tantrum, my ass.”

David made a sound halfway between a giggle and a moan at the nip. The tiny bite tickled, and it didn’t even break the skin, but David’s body remembered what it felt like to have Cook bite him, _really_ bite him. Cook moaned into David’s neck and tried to bury his nose even more deeply.

“You make everything better,” Cook said.

“I do?” David said, surprised.

“Yes,” Cook told him. “You make all the bad smells go away.”

“Oh. Okay. Well. That’s good, right? How’s your head?”

“Better,” Cook admitted, “but please don’t stop doing that.”

“I won’t,” David promised.

David thought about what Cook had said as he continued to massage his head. If the scent of him made Cook feel better, maybe a little bit of his blood would do an even better job of it. And David was considering this solely for Cook’s benefit, and not because it might make him feel good, too.

“Take some of my blood,” David said. “It might help.”

“You haven’t had any blood today,” Cook said.

“I brought the cooler; I’ll get some later.” David would have to remember to order more, and to increase his usual order, since he was feeding two now. “Actually, if you’d had some blood before we left the apartment you might’ve had better control. No more skipping meals,” David said firmly, making Cook chuckle, and then groan when the chuckle vibrated inside his head.

“Breakfast _is_ the most important meal of the day,” Cook said with a grimace.

“Cute,” David said. “Now take a sip.”

Cook immediately latched onto David’s neck and sucked. David moaned and tightened his grip on Cook’s hair.

“You’re supposed to just take a sip, not . . . ,” David said, his voice cracking as Cook continued to suckle.

“Not turn you on?” Cook said, voice rough as he breathed in the scent of David’s arousal.

Cook slid his hand down David’s front until he cupped him through his jeans. Cook rubbed David’s erection as his fangs pierced David’s skin, as he drank from him. David clung to Cook and bit his lip so he wouldn’t let free the sounds that were building in his throat.

David couldn’t believe he’d gotten so aroused, just from the thought of Cook biting him, and how quickly he was brought to the brink by the bite itself. Cook withdrew his fangs and lapped at the punctures, his hand still moving on David. Cook released him, but before David could whine his protest Cook lifted him off the floor and spread him out on the couch.

Cook tore at David’s waistband (leaving the material intact this time, thankfully), and then swooped down and took David into his mouth. David cried out in surprise before he managed to silence himself again. David shoved the heel of one hand into his mouth and pulled at Cook’s hair with the other, as Cook’s mouth moved over him before taking him in all the way and swallowing around him.

David spilled into Cook’s mouth with a muffled cry, and then felt Cook’s tongue licking him clean as if it was happening from very far away. When he came back to himself, Cook’s face was buried in his groin.

“Smells good here, too,” Cook said, as if he’d sensed David’s return. “I do feel better now, but you should probably keep rubbing my head just in case.”

“Heh,” David managed, and gave Cook’s head a weak pat. “You were just supposed to take blood,” he added when he tried to lift his arm and couldn’t.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Cook said, raising his head so that David could see the teasing glint in his eyes.

Cook sat up, tucked David back into his pants, and then helped him sit up. He got David settled, and then promptly lowered his head to David’s lap so David could continue with the head rub. That was a position David was familiar with from previous head rubs, and it felt comfortable to be doing something they’d done before, as if nothing had changed. Even though David knew that a lot had changed.

As David ran his fingers through Cook’s hair, he told him how he’d finally learned how to filter out the sounds and smells that threatened to overwhelm him when he’d first been made into a vampire. It had been easier for him because he was in the familiar environs of his family home in the suburbs, not in a crowded pub, surrounded by other crowded bars and restaurants.

David thought it was like meditation, but he didn’t tell Cook that, just talked him through the deep breaths and centering. Finally Cook sighed.

“That’s better. But I still think it’s mostly you. Will I have to do that every time?”

“No,” David told him. “Eventually it’ll be automatic. You might get surprised by a sound or smell once in a while, and need to adjust your control, but generally it’s all reflexive, once you’ve got it down.”

After the lesson they sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.

Cook sounded sad, but resigned when he said, “I have to quit the softball league.”

David’s fingers stuttered in Cook’s hair. “Yes,” he said, and bit back the urge to apologize again.

Cook didn’t say anything else, and David wasn’t certain whether he’d fallen asleep, or was just lost in thought. He listened to the sounds of the pub and concentrated on the feel of the silky strands of Cook’s hair. Neal and Andy found them sitting in that same position after they closed the pub.

David heard the announcement of last call, and everyone eventually being ushered out, the door locked behind them. David closed his eyes and covered Cook’s eyes with his hand when he heard Neal’s and Andy’s footsteps in the hallway. As expected, the first thing they did after they opened the door was flick on the lights.

“Jesus!” Andy said, hand going to his chest when he saw them on the couch. “A little warning next time.”

“We thought you’d taken off,” Neal said, sounding both worried about Cook, and annoyed.

“No,” Cook groaned as he sat up and rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Just past two.”

“Shit. Sorry I wasn’t much help tonight.” Cook glanced at David. “I’m hungry.”

“We could hit the diner,” Andy suggested. “If you’re up to it.”

Neal just looked on, studying Cook.

David let Cook field the question; he wasn’t sure whether Cook had meant he needed blood, or he had a hankering for a burger. Or both. Or whether he’d be able to deal with the sounds, and smells, and bright lights of the diner.

Cook glanced over at David, reached out and squeezed his leg. “Diner sound good?”

“I could eat,” David said, not specifying what he could eat. “As long as you’re feeling okay.”

“Food might help,” Cook said hopefully.

David nodded and pushed down his concerns.

“You gonna tell us what’s going on with you?” Neal finally said, addressing the elephant in the room.

David glanced at Cook, interested to know what he was going to tell his friends. It was clear, though, that Cook hadn’t thought it through; had maybe thought he could continue on with his life as if nothing had changed.

“He’s developed a sensitivity to sounds and smells,” David stepped in to explain.

“And bright lights,” Cook added, squinting a glare up at the overhead lights.

“Overnight?” Neal said skeptically.

David looked anywhere but at the other three people in the room, hoping his guilt wasn’t written all over his face, but expecting that it was.

“And we’re going to have to rearrange my hours,” Cook said. “I have to stay out of the sun. Sorry, I know it’s a pain in the ass.”

“You’ve also developed a sun allergy?” Andy said, sounding just as skeptical as Neal had. “Like yours.” He looked at David, who felt like a bug under a microscope.

“So it’s contagious now . . . ,” Neal snarked.

“Sort of,” David said weakly.

“. . . like some sexually transmitted disease?”

David choked at just how close to the truth Neal had inadvertently come with that comment, sarcastic or not. Cook helpfully slapped him on the back.

“Not exactly?” David said when he could speak.

“Can we talk about this later?” Cook said. “I really need to eat something.”

Neal and Andy let it drop, but David could tell that they wanted answers. He didn’t want to advocate that Cook lie to them, but he wasn’t sure how well the truth was going to go over. He knew firsthand how difficult it was to convince someone that you were a vampire, even after you’d (purely by accident) turned _them_ into a vampire.

Cook leaned on David after he’d risen from the couch. David wrapped one arm around Cook’s waist and grabbed Cook’s jacket off the arm of the couch, and they followed Neal and Andy out the back of the pub. Once out of the office some of the smells were stronger; stale beer and urine. They had a crew come in early in the morning to clean the main room in the pub, as well as the hallway and bathrooms, so those smells would be gone before they opened up the next afternoon, replaced by the strong scent of disinfectant and fake flowers.

“We’ll meet you there,” Cook said, leading David off towards his truck. He was no longer leaning heavily on him, but his hand was curled around David’s throat, his thumb pressing against the invisible mark he’d left on David’s skin.

David felt like he couldn’t breathe; ignoring for the moment the fact that he didn’t even _need_ to breathe. He felt light in the head and weak in the knees. He wanted Cook to push him down in the bed of the truck and take him right there, drink from him and fuck him until David couldn’t remember his own name.

“Blood, now,” Cook said, his voice tight, and David started to turn into him, to raise his chin for the bite, before he realized that Cook was talking about the bags in the cooler.

David shuddered out of the haze he’d fallen into and opened the passenger side door with a shaking hand. He drew the cooler over and took out a blood bag for Cook, and one for himself. He looked around to make sure that Neal and Andy had left, and then bit into the bag and drank it down.

Once he’d fed, David felt better, steadier. He blushed when he remembered what he’d wanted Cook to do to him, and was afraid to look at Cook, in case he could see it on David’s face. Or read his mind. He wasn’t yet certain Cook didn’t have that power.

“Have another one,” David said. “You need it,” he added when it looked like Cook was going to argue. “You’re the baby vampire now.”

Cook gave David a look that said he was going to pay for that comment later, but he took the bag and drank the blood without an argument, which was more than David had expected, and which went to show just how much pain Cook had been in before that he needed to replenish his fluids.

David double checked the count; five bags left out of the dozen he’d ordered Sunday, not knowing how much blood a newly made vampire would require. If David needed another bag later (after Cook bit him, if David could arrange for it to happen), that would leave four bags for the next night, just in case he couldn’t get a delivery scheduled for before sunrise that morning.

Cook waited until David had packed away the empties and climbed into the truck before shutting his door and walking around to the driver’s side. While Cook drove them to the diner, which was only a couple blocks away from the pub, David searched through the cab, above the visors and in the glove box, until he found what he was looking for.

Cook glanced over to see what David held in his hand. “What do you need sunglasses for?”

“They’re not for me,” David said, then explained, “The lights in the diner are pretty bright.”

“How can you stand it?” Cook asked.

“You get used to it,” David said. “Your brain just isn’t ready for all the input it’s getting right now. It’ll adapt, and the medi–, er, the breathing and centering thing’ll help.”

“Christ, I hope so,” Cook said.

David bit his tongue against reprimanding Cook for the curse and instead called his local blood supplier to place an order.

Neal and Andy were waiting outside the diner when they pulled up. David made sure neither he nor Cook had blood on their lips, then handed the sunglasses to Cook before sliding out of the truck. Cook hooked the shades onto the collar of his shirt and took David’s hand as they walked over to meet Neal and Andy.

Cook was squinting against the fluorescent glare shining through the plate glass windows that lined the front of the diner before they even reached the front door. He slipped the sunglasses on, then held the door for David. Andy did a double take when he saw the sunglasses.

“Hey, rock star,” Andy teased.

“If you’re trying to go incognito, the sunglasses’ll only draw attention to you,” Neal said, grinning and sharing a high five with Andy.

“Can I have your autograph?” Andy added.

“Bite me,” Cook said, though David could tell he was trying not to smile at their antics.

Cook elbowed past Neal and Andy, and led David to a booth at the back of the diner. He chose the side that put their backs to the wall, eyes on the door, and ushered David in ahead of him. As soon as they sat, Cook slipped his hand over David’s leg and rubbed up and down his inner thigh. It was less an erotic touch than a nervous gesture.

David leaned into Cook and raised his face, giving him a questioning look. Under cover of the waitress dropping off menus, flirting with Andy, reeling off the specials, and pouring coffee, Cook spoke in a voice pitched low for David’s ears only.

“Is there anything I can’t eat?”

David realized that aside from the coffee he’d drunk that night, this would be the first time Cook had tried human food since he’d been made a vampire. He shook his head. “No. You can eat anything, but in moderation. Your body doesn’t need as much, and . . . .” David rubbed Cook’s belly. “. . . you can still gain weight if you eat too much. Human food or blood.”

Cook glared at David as he covered the hand rubbing his stomach. He picked up David’s hand and pointedly set it down on David’s own leg. David grinned up at Cook, then darted up for a quick kiss of apology.

“Did we ever act like that?” Neal asked Andy as he perused the menu.

“No,” Andy said, at the same time Cook said, “Yes!”

“Oh, hey, Cook, I thought you two forgot we were here,” Neal teased.

“Can you blame me?” Cook said, raising his arm and draping it over David’s shoulders, forgetting (for the moment) David’s comment about his belly. Cook was sensitive about his love handles, but David thought they were adorable.

“Look at the menu before the waitress gets back,” Andy said, pushing the stack of two unopened menus towards them.

“I already know what I’m having,” Cook said, ignoring the menus.

Cheeseburger, medium, with fries, David knew. It was what Cook always got when they came here.

“Me, too,” David said. He was predictable as well; grilled chicken salad with raspberry vinaigrette dressing so he got his vegetables and some protein without too much fat.

“You guys are so boring,” Neal said, repeating his oft voiced complaint.

“The couch in the office doesn’t think so,” Cook said.

As soon as the words registered, David slapped Cook’s chest. Cook caught his hand before David could hit him a second time, and smirked down at him.

“I can’t believe you _said_ that,” David hissed, blushing.

“That’s okay,” Neal said. “I did Andy on the couch before we opened.”

Andy acted neither surprised, nor embarrassed by the comment, but he did choke on his coffee when Cook reassured David, “They didn’t really. Neal likes to do Andy over the desk.”

“Touche,” Neal said.

“Fucker,” Andy said as he grabbed a handful of napkins and cleaned up spilt (and spit) coffee.

The waitress returned and they placed their orders. Cook changed his burger to medium rare and added a chocolate milkshake with a glare at David.

“You always get the salad, and then you steal my french fries,” Cook complained after the waitress walked away.

“Just a couple,” David defended. He loved french fries, even though he knew they weren’t good for him. “Besides, I always make it up to you later.”

Neal and Andy burst into laughter, and David blushed when he realized what he’d just admitted out loud. Cook grinned at him and smacked a loud kiss to his temple.

They talked about inconsequential things while waiting for their food, staying away from the topic of Cook’s “illness” by unspoken agreement. They fell silent when the food came and everyone dug in.

David tried to keep a surreptitious eye on Cook, but it wasn’t necessary. Cook appeared to be handling the sounds and smells fine, and when they started to become too much for him, he’d bend his head down to David’s neck and take a deep breath of David’s scent, and then press a thank you kiss to David’s cheek.

David knew that the gesture was solely to help Cook deal with all the input his brain was receiving, but he couldn’t help his body’s automatic reaction each time Cook bent to his neck. David could tell that Cook wasn’t unaware of his arousal, because Cook’s scent changed, too, became even _better_. It was all David could do to keep from squirming in his seat or doing a face plant into Cook’s chest so he could just breathe him in.

Cook didn’t have the same control, or else he just didn’t care if his friends (along with the waitress and the other diner patrons) saw him nuzzling David’s neck. Cook’s scenting of him got longer (and made David shiver), and his kisses got wetter with less time and space between kiss and sniff, so that he was nearly sucking on David’s neck.

“You two need a room?” Neal asked dryly.

“Yes,” Cook answered before David could squeak out a ‘no’. “Luckily I know where we can find one. You ready to leave?” he asked David.

David _was_ ready to leave, but saying so now would give the entirely wrong (or possibly very right) impression. Cook grinned at him, as if he knew the quandary in which he’d put David.

“I am ready to leave,” David said primly, “but you’re keeping your hands to yourself.”

Neal gave a snort of disbelief.

“The hell I am,” Cook whispered, squeezing David’s neck. “And your mockery,” he told Neal, “would be more believable if Andy didn’t have his hand on your dick right now.”

Cook leaned back in the booth with a mellow slouch he usually only got after taking a few hits off the cigarettes Neal and Andy rolled. He pulled David into him, and looked down at him with an expression so dark and intense it was as much warning as promise. David shivered all the way down to his toes. He pressed his face to Cook’s shoulder and tried to hide just how much that look had affected him.

David inhaled, breathed in Cook’s scent. He felt Cook’s body go taut against him in response to David’s own reaction. David forced himself away from Cook. He couldn’t bring himself to look anywhere other than at the table when he said, “I’m ready to leave now.”

David didn’t even argue when Cook pulled out his wallet and paid for both their meals. He was too busy sitting on his hands so he didn’t reach for Cook, and trying to keep his fangs from dropping due to the suddenly very urgent desire to taste him.

To David it felt as if everything was moving in slow motion, as if he was hearing the conversations around him from under water. Cook threw some bills on the table and then slid out of the booth as he replaced his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. He held his hand out for David’s, and when David placed his hand in Cook’s everything snapped back into place.

As soon as they stepped outside Cook slipped off the sunglasses with a grateful sigh. He said goodbye to Neal and Andy, and then led David over to the truck. David glanced back at Neal and Andy, who were headed towards where they had parked. Sometimes you couldn’t tell that they were together; their interaction more like friends than lovers – a punch in the arm and wrestling on the floor.

And usually, when David did pick up on the vibe between them it was subtle: a look, finishing each other’s sentences, knowing what the other person wanted before they’d asked. But tonight Neal had his arm slung across Andy’s shoulders, and Andy’s arm was around Neal’s waist. Public displays of affection were not the norm for them, and David had a very bad feeling that somehow he and Cook had disturbed the force, or something.

David blushed and turned away from his study of Neal and Andy when he realized that Andy’s hand was shoved down the back of Neal’s jeans. There were some things he did not need to know. Or see.

At the truck Cook opened the passenger side door for David. Before David could climb in, though, Cook leaned down and kissed him. David decided that trying to climb Cook was much more fun than contemplating Neal and Andy. Cook broke the kiss before David was ready for it to end. He urged David, despite his reluctance, into the truck, then closed the door and walked around the front.

Cook slipped into the driver’s seat, but instead of sliding the key into the ignition to start the truck and drive them home, he reached for David. David went across the bench seat eagerly, shoving his duffel bag onto the floor with the cooler so he could get as close to Cook as possible. If David had any working brain cells, he might have wondered at his own desperate desire for Cook’s touch, the scent and taste of him.

David had never been kissed before he’d met Cook, and now he wanted Cook to do things to him that still made him blush when he just thought about them inside his own head. And he didn’t care that they were in Cook’s truck, parked in a public lot (even if it was nearly three in the morning and there was hardly anyone around) instead of someplace private.

They kissed roughly, not caring when blunt teeth drew blood and fangs dropped in response, scoring tongue and lip. For David it was the best of both worlds, tasting Cook’s mouth and his blood. Cook impatiently tore at David’s jeans. Once he got them open he shoved his hand down the front of them and stripped David’s dick. David pushed into Cook’s hand and mewled into his mouth, and spilled his release all over his fingers.

Cook withdrew his hand from David’s pants and brought it to his mouth. He licked some of David’s come off it, then held it out to David to do the same. David didn’t hesitate before touching his tongue to Cook’s hand and dragging it over the palm and between his fingers. Cook growled and sucked David’s tongue into his mouth, and then they both cleaned off Cook’s hand together, the task taking longer than it should have because they couldn’t resist pausing to share a kiss (or two).

When Cook’s hand had been completely licked clean of David’s come, David reached for Cook’s waistband. “Yeah,” Cook said, watching David’s fingers open his jeans. “Want you to suck me.”

David shivered at the heat in Cook’s voice. He took Cook out of his pants and stroked him, and then he stretched out on the bench seat and made himself as comfortable as he could given their location, so he could more easily get his mouth on Cook.

Cook gently pushed his fingers through David’s hair and sighed when David took him into his mouth. “Fuck, that feels good,” Cook said. “Nice and slow, baby, make it last.”

Cook released David’s head to find the key chain he’d dropped onto the seat and to shove the key into the ignition. David lifted his head when the engine started. Cook couldn’t possibly be thinking of driving while David was . . . laying there doing what he was doing.

“Stay,” Cook said, gently pushing David’s head back down. “Gonna come in your mouth, and when we get home, gonna fuck you so hard.”

David moaned at Cook’s words and the gentle demand of his hand, and promptly forgot all about his concern over Cook driving while David was giving him a blow job. David got lost in a sensory overload of Cook: the heavy feel of Cook in his mouth, the musky taste of him on his tongue, the heady scent of him in his nostrils, and the breathy sounds and soft moans he made as David sucked him.

Cook kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other on David’s head. Never forcing, just touching. Occasionally he’d slide the hand down David’s back and squeeze his ass, as if he was afraid he couldn’t be trusted to leave his hand on David’s head. He curled his fingers around the nape of David’s neck and found the place where he’d bitten David, his fingers stroking the spot and sending little electric shocks straight to David’s dick.

Despite his recent orgasm David was still hard, and the more Cook touched him, the more he wanted to come again. David moved his hips in a bid for friction. Cook growled deep in his throat and moved his hand from David’s neck to the front of his jeans, squeezing him through the material.

David whimpered around Cook and forgot what he was supposed to be doing as he pushed into Cook’s hand. Cook gave a deep chuckle and released David’s dick to touch the back of his head again. “Pay attention,” he said, and waited until David had resumed sucking before he put his hand back where David wanted it.

David moaned as Cook rubbed him, his thumb finding the head of David’s dick even through the thick denim. He struggled to concentrate on the task at hand, but Cook’s own hand was _so_ distracting. Cook stopped touching David just when he was getting close. David whined, and Cook groaned in response.

“Finish me off, Arch,” Cook said. “I promise I’ll take care of you, make you feel so good.”

David had already come once (twice if you counted the time earlier in the office), so he thought it was pretty selfish of him to want to come again when Cook hadn’t come at all, yet. Still, it was easier said than done to ignore his own need and concentrate on Cook’s.

Cook helped, though. He told David how good what he was doing felt, and he made sounds David never thought he’d hear Cook make, and that made David want to hear more because he loved knowing he was the one doing that to Cook.

With David’s full concentration focused on him, it didn’t take long to bring Cook to the edge. David thought about backing off, making Cook wait for it until he was desperate to come, but David didn’t think _he_ could wait that long to feel Cook pulse in his mouth, to taste him on his tongue.

David took Cook in deeper, and did his best to swallow around him without gagging (or forgetting that he didn’t need to breathe). Cook made a sound that once upon a time might have had David believing that someone was trying to kill him, and filled David’s mouth with the thick, pungent fluid of his release.

David swallowed it all, not wanting to miss a drop, and then carefully licked Cook clean. Cook’s head was tipped back, but he opened his eyes when David lifted his mouth off him and raised his head. Cook’s eyes were dark, and they went darker when David stuck out his tongue and touched the tip to the head of Cook’s dick. Cook shivered, then slid his hand to the back of David’s neck and dragged him up so he could plunder his mouth.

Plunder wasn’t a word David had ever thought he’d use, and certainly not to describe a kiss, but that’s exactly what it felt like, as if Cook was just _taking_ what he wanted. David thought maybe he shouldn’t get so turned on by that, but he really liked being the person that Cook wanted so much.

Cook finally released David’s mouth. “Let’s go inside.”

David licked swollen lips and looked around, noticing for the first time that they were parked in the lot outside Cook’s apartment building. He blushed when he thought that anyone could have walked past and seen them, seen _him_ doing that to Cook. Cook grinned as if he knew exactly what David was thinking.

Cook never used to have this thing for public sex that he seemed to have developed. David thought he may have created a monster. Though not literally, because he didn’t think Cook was a monster-monster, not a grrr kind of . . . .

David’s thoughts were interrupted when Cook waved his hand in front of David’s face. “You coming?” Cook had already done up his pants, and now he reached past David’s legs for the duffel. “Can you get the cooler?”

David nodded and slid back across the seat so he could get out the passenger door. The short walk to Cook’s apartment seemed to take forever. Once inside, Cook headed straight for the bedroom with David’s bag. David detoured to the kitchen to put the remaining blood bags in the fridge, and the ice packs in the freezer.

When David reached the bedroom, Cook had removed his jacket and was peeling off his shirt. He gave David a heated look as he sat on the edge of the mattress and took off his boots. David watched very closely as Cook stood and put his hands to the waistband of his jeans. He was still hard, and David could see the thick outline of him pushing at the material. David licked his lips as Cook pushed down pants and briefs, baring himself to David’s gaze.

“Your turn,” Cook said, after he’d kicked off his jeans. “Unless you want me to do it.”

David could tell from the way Cook was looking at him that his clothes would probably not survive the experience of having Cook remove them. David’s hands shook a little bit as he pulled his t-shirt off over his head. He dropped his arms and held the t-shirt in front of him, as if he needed the armor against all the promises in Cook’s eyes.

David let the t-shirt fall to the floor and dropped his hands to his waistband. He unfastened button and zip as he toed off his sneakers. Unfortunately, being turned into a vampire had not made him any less clumsy, and David nearly fell over in the ill-fated attempt to get shoes and pants off at the same time.

Cook caught David before hit the floor. Behind the heat in his gaze, David caught a look of fond amusement, and then Cook kissed him. David forgot all about the fact that he wasn’t the suave and debonair lover he’d have liked to be because Cook made him feel as if he was perfect.

Without breaking the kiss, Cook laid David out on the bed. He pushed tangled jeans and sneakers off David’s feet, then slid his hand up the inside of David’s calf. David spread his legs, anticipating the rise of Cook’s hand to where he really, really needed it.

“That’s it, Archie, open up for me,” Cook said against David’s lips.

David moaned into Cook’s mouth as he moved into Cook’s hand, eager for his touch. He’d never felt this way before he’d met Cook, never know that he _could_ feel this way.

“Love how much you want it,” Cook said. “You do want it, don’t you?”

David tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

“Show me how much you want it,” Cook said, the warm rasp of his voice settling low in David’s belly.

David thrust up helplessly into the loose curl of Cook’s fingers around him.

“Good boy,” Cook said, and the approval in his voice tickled its way down David’s spine. David made a sound as he thrust up again, looking for more friction. Cook tightened his grip, and David trembled as he pushed into it.

Cook touched his thumb to the spot that made David see stars, and David clung to him, rutting mindlessly as Cook brought him to the edge, and then released him. David whined in protest, and then felt the perfectly reasonable urge to wipe the smirk off Cook’s face. The urge faced rather quickly when Cook touched his finger to the hidden entrance to David’s body. David whimpered when he remembered Cook’s promise to fuck him hard.

“You want this?” Cook said, teasing light kisses to David’s lips.

David nodded as he tried to capture Cook’s mouth.

“Show me,” Cook said.

“Cook. Please,” David said. He used Cook’s hair to hold his head still long enough for him to bring their mouths together. As they kissed, David rocked himself against Cook’s finger, whimpering when it finally slid inside him, and then again when it wasn’t _enough_.

Cook broke the kiss and withdrew his finger from David’s body. He raised an eyebrow at David’s whine of displeasure, but otherwise ignored it, which displeased David even more. David was appeased when he saw that Cook was just gathering the supplies they’d need from the drawer.

Cook grabbed lube and condoms, and then gave the foil packets a thoughtful look before tossing them back into the drawer. “I don’t think we need those anymore. Can’t wait to feel you all soft and tight around me.”

David moaned. He didn’t know . . . he’d never . . . but the desire in Cook’s _voice_ completely undid him.

“It’ll be so good, I promise,” Cook said, one finger, and then two, pressing inside David’s body, opening him.

Cook took his time, ignoring David’s assurances that he was ready. He fucked David with two fingers, touching that spot inside him as he sucked bruises into David’s skin, dropped his fangs and made scratches which he lapped at eagerly. Cook stretched him with a third finger, and then rose up over him, lifted David’s legs and pushed inside him.

Cook moved slowly, gently, until David reminded him that, “You promised to do it hard, Cook.”

David scraped his fangs along Cook’s throat, following with his tongue. When his lips touched Cook’s ear, he breathed, “I want it.”

Cook groaned and his hips sped up. David wrapped his legs around Cook’s hips and pushed up, driving himself onto Cook with every thrust down. “Yeah, do it.”

They struck at the same time, fangs sinking deep into each other’s throats as Cook slammed his hips against David, drove his cock deep inside him. It was perfect, and too much, and not enough, and David felt like he was going to fly away if someone didn’t grab onto him.

“I’ve got you,” Cook said, and David allowed himself to fall and fall and spiral over the edge..

~*~*~*~

After the third time someone asked Cook why he’d had to give up the softball league, and some asshat (David had overheard Andy call the guy that, and he thought it was appropriate) called Cook out for thinking he was ‘too good’ anymore to participate in the local Music Fest, Cook gave David a humorless laugh and said, “I think it might have been easier if you’d just killed me.”

David had been horrified at the idea that Cook might think, even for a second, that he was better off dead. He punched Cook in the arm as hard as he could.

“Ow, fuck!” Cook rubbed his arm. “You remember you have vampire strength now, right?”

“Don’t _say_ that!” David pounded his fists against Cook’s chest. “Don’t you ever say that!”

“Hey, alright, I’m sorry!” Cook captured David’s fists, and then wrapped his arms around him, pinning David’s arms so he couldn’t hit him anymore. “I didn’t mean it. Mostly. It’s just . . . it’s just frustrating.”

David slumped against Cook’s chest, pressed his face against the fabric of his t-shirt, which smelled like Downy and Cook, and tried not to imagine his life, a world, without Cook in it.

“I know,” David said. Just because he’d been home schooled after he’d been made into a vampire didn’t mean he hadn’t faced some of the same questions: friends calling and wanting to hang out or go to a matinee, or teachers asking why he had to drop out of choir and couldn’t be in the play that year. David had never been very good at lying, but he’d had to learn to be good at it.

A couple days later Cook became quiet.

(“Introspective.”

“Why do you have to use big words when small words will suffice?” David teased.

“Because I like big words. How about, I’m just thinking?”

“I like introspective better.”

“Of course you do.” Cook grabbed David and tickled him to the floor, and for a while, Cook was unable to form any words, much less big ones.)

Two weeks after Cook’s comment about maybe being better off dead they left Tulsa together.

When Cook finally informed David what all his ‘thinking’ had been about, David studied him, trying to determine whether he was certain about his decision, and how he felt about having to leave his entire life behind, but Cook seemed sure, and he appeared to be taking the decision with genuine good humor. “It’ll be easier than all the questions, and having to lie all the time. And besides, I’ve always wanted to travel.”

David understood completely. He’d left home because his father’s inability to accept him had been tearing his family apart, but also because he’d needed a fresh start, someplace where no one knew his name, or that he’d once dreamt about becoming a singing star, or that he wasn’t going to be in the school play for the first time since grade school.

Once the decision was made, they packed up everything they needed to take with them (and that would fit into the back of Cook’s truck), gave away the items they didn’t want to hold onto, and put the few remaining items into the storage locker at Neal and Andy’s apartment.

“There’s too many questions I can’t answer,” Cook told Neal and Andy the night he informed them that he and David were leaving, determined, though they’d tried to convince him to stay. What remained unsaid was that they were two of the people with whom Cook couldn’t come clean.

“This your doing?” Andy asked David later, not unkindly, on the night they were helping to sort and pack up Cook’s apartment.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” David said sadly, not denying it. How could he? He’d made Cook into a vampire, and now they were both dealing with the fallout from that act.

There were tears the night they drove away. Mainly Cook’s, because even as a vampire he was pretty sentimental, and also a crier. David hadn’t known what to say after Cook hugged his friends goodbye and pointed the truck east, so he didn’t say anything. Instead he slid over next to Cook and just sat next to him, their arms rubbing each time Cook hit a bump or took a corner, until he raised his arm and let David slide beneath it.

Cook had always wanted to visit New York City, so that’s where they headed first. After a detour through Utah so that David could see Claudia and let her know he was fine (and also so Cook could meet her). David hadn’t seen Claudia since he’d left home, though they’d spoken a few times on the telephone. David knew that she hadn’t told his parents about the calls, and while he hated the need for secrecy, he understood it.

Claudia burst into tears when she saw him standing outside her door. Which had made David cry, and of course, then Cook teared up. Cook told her that David accidentally made him a vampire, but David clamped his hand over Cook’s mouth before he could reveal the exact circumstances of the accidental turning. Cook laughed so hard at the expression on David’s face that David thought he might actually choke. But then he didn’t, and David wished that he _had_. Which was mean, and David totally hadn’t really meant it, but Cook and Claudia, like, ganged up on him! It wasn’t fair.

When they got to NYC, Cook was like a kid in a candy store. He wanted to do and see everything. They stayed there the longest of any of the places they visited. Cook got gigs a couple nights a week and hustled pool, and after talking with the bartender at the club Cook was playing at one night, David got a job tutoring her daughter.

Janet thought that having to come to her mother’s workplace to be tutored was lame (the manager allowed them to use the office), but David gained cool points when she realized he was dating the “totally hot rocker guy”, as Janet had called Cook before she knew he was just Cook. Even though David completely agreed with the ‘totally hot’ appellation, if only in the privacy of his own head.

Cook even dragged David on stage to perform with him a couple of times, which made David blush and giggle shyly, as if he was still seventeen. Or heaven forbid, a fourteen year old girl. Once he got lost in the music, though, David forgot about the butterflies that singing with Cook gave him. Janet caught them kissing after one such performance, and she was just lucky that’s all she caught them doing because they’d both gotten pretty worked up on stage. David hadn’t stopped blushing for _days_ , but Cook just laughed and said, “Get lost, kid, I wanna kiss my boyfriend some more.”

“I’m not a kid,” Janet had groused, “and kissing is gross.”

“You keep on thinking that,” Cook said, and then he kissed David some more.

Cook made a few friends among the other musicians and regulars, and that was the beginning of the end. The invitations started coming in, and while Cook accepted the ones they could attend, he had to decline more than he accepted. David could tell that it ate at him and he was saddened, but not surprised when Cook approached him one night and suggested it was time they moved on.

They headed to Boston next, and then made their way down the East coast. David thought it was amusing that two vampires could so often be found on a beach they couldn’t enjoy during the daylight hours. They sang for their supper; literally. Bars, bus stations, rest areas, street corners, staying in each place no more than a week or two.

At each new stop they purchased two postcards; he sent one to Claudia at college, and Cook sent one to Neal and Andy. For the first few months, Cook also tried to talk to Neal and Andy, and his mom once a week. The longer they were gone, though, the harder those conversations became, and sometimes Cook would accidentally on purpose ‘forget’ to call for a couple weeks at a time.

Once they’d traveled the length of the entire east coast they moved inland and headed back north. Six months after leaving Tulsa they were in Chicago. That was where everything started to fall apart.

Cook became withdrawn. He stopped talking to David, and when David asked him a question, his answers were clipped and short. He started going out without David as soon as the sun set, and when David tried to talk to Cook about it, Cook snapped that he just needed some space.

David didn’t know what to do. Cook was his first boyfriend, and also the first person he’d made into a vampire. He was inexperienced in either relationship, and pretty much flying blind. He tried to give Cook the space he needed, but fretted that he was losing him as a boyfriend, and at the same time not giving him what Cook needed from his maker.

Thanksgiving was coming up and David knew that Beth had invited Cook the last time they’d spoken, and that she had been disappointed when he’d told her that he couldn’t make it, so at first David chalked it up to Cook missing his friends and family, and tried to be understanding when Cook went off without him. Still, now that he wasn’t spending all of his waking moments with Cook, David had a lot of free time to think about it.

One night when David had gone out to pick up some blood from their local supplier, he saw Cook disappear into a bar. David turned it over in his head on the walk back to their motel room. He desperately wanted things to be the way they were before, when Cook had hated to be away from him, when Cook would watch him from the stage, the things he wanted to do to David written all over his face, when Cook would show off for David while playing pool and try to make him laugh by telling the dorkiest jokes ever.

Cook had been carrying the guitar that he’d started leaving in the truck rather than carrying into their room each morning, so David knew he’d be performing. The knowledge that Cook had begun leaving David behind when he went out to play made his heart feel like it was being squeezed, but maybe if David followed him, and Cook saw him watching from the audience, just maybe they could get things back to the way they’d been before. Cook would see David and remember why they’d fallen in love in the first place.

David realized that his plan could blow up in his face, but he thought it was worth the risk. And besides, it wasn’t like he had any other ideas.

~*~

David stashed the blood bags in the small refrigerator in their motel room, then returned to the bar he’d seen Cook enter. No one appeared to be checking IDs at the door, but David attached himself to two girls that were approaching the door just in case. He slipped inside unnoticed, and immediately got lost in the mass of bodies.

David stayed near the back of the bar, wanting a moment to watch Cook before Cook realized he was there. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, like Cook when he got lost in the music and the crowd. Tonight especially. Partly because it had been awhile since David had seen him play, but also because Cook was on fire, almost manic with it.

David remained hidden until the set was nearly over. A couple of times he thought he’d caught a look on Cook’s face as he scanned the crowd, but because of his size it was easy to position himself so he wouldn’t be seen. He’d never been attracted to Cook more than he was right then; it made him realize that he didn’t want to lose Cook, and he would if he let Cook continue to withdraw from him without doing something about it.

David pushed his way through the crowd, watching Cook as he finished the last song, and then stood on the stage for a few moments, soaking up the adulation of the crowd. He was covered with a sheen of sweat from his exertions, and his chest was rising and falling in a parody of the breaths he no longer needed to take.

Cook slung his guitar onto his back, and then jumped off the stage and into the crowd. A huge roar went up, and David’s heart leapt into his throat. He knew that Cook could take care of himself, even before he’d been made a vampire, but that didn’t stop him from worrying.

David pushed onward in the direction he’d last seen Cook. He gave up trying to find Cook through the crowd because everyone around him was taller than he was. He found an empty chair and stepped up onto it so he could see over their heads. His eyes immediately zeroed in on Cook, drawn to him by an instinct he didn’t even try to explain.

Women and men, both, were reaching out to touch Cook, which was nothing new. What was new to David was seeing the smile Cook gave them, the one David had always thought of as reserved for him, and the hand Cook trailed over a shoulder or arm. It felt as if a great weight was crushing David’s chest when Cook stopped beside one woman who was especially determined to get his attention, standing close enough to rub her breasts against his arm.

Cook bent his head and dragged his tongue across her lips before pushing it inside her mouth roughly. The woman didn’t seem to care, as she pushed closer to Cook and open to his hard kiss.

It was the proof of everything David hadn’t wanted to imagine, much less believe to be true. Only six months into their forever, Cook had already gotten bored with him. David was not only a horrible vampire, he was a terrible maker; he’d been so determined not to abandon Cook that he had failed to see what was right in front of him – that leaving him was exactly what Cook needed.

David didn’t remember making a sound (he didn’t think he could, it felt like his vocal chords were paralyzed again), but Cook looked up and their gazes met. David couldn’t hear anything over the rushing in his ears, but he saw Cook’s lips, the lips he’d just kissed someone else with, move to form his name.

It set David into motion. He jumped down from the chair and flung himself back the way he’d come, shoving people aside with uncharacteristic disregard to clear a path to the door. All he could think about was that he had to get out of there before his chest broke open and his heart spilled out onto the floor.

David ran the entire way back to their motel room, ignoring irate shouts for him to ‘watch it, buddy’ and concerned queries as to whether he was alright. When David reached the privacy of the motel room, he bent at the waist, hands on his knees to keep from sliding to the floor. The ache in his chest had nothing at all to do with the run, but David tried to pretend that it did.

The last time he’d felt like this, felt this much pain and fear and confusion, he’d been dying. David thought maybe it really was true that you could die from a broken heart.

David forced himself to stand straight, to ignore the crushing pain in his chest. He dropped the key card on the scarred table and grabbed his backpack and duffel bag from where they sat on the second bed. Luckily he’d used some of the time Cook had been going off without him to do heaven only knew what (though David had an idea now, and he couldn’t stop seeing it play out behind his eyes) to do their laundry, so he didn’t have to worry about clean clothes. He did have to worry about finding a place to stay before morning, however, but he could take care of that with a phone call.

David thought about the blood he’d picked up earlier that night, but his stomach rebelled at the thought of drinking any of it. He headed for the door, eager to be long gone before Cook got home, then paused. David touched the chain he wore around his neck, then pulled it out from beneath his shirt. He closed his fingers around the ring he wore on the chain, a clunky silver skull, clenching it until it dug into his skin and drew blood.

David remembered the day Cook had given him the ring to hold onto. He’d slipped it onto his finger, even though it was too large and he’d had to bend his finger to keep it from sliding off, and tried not to read too much into it. When he’d tried to return it later, Cook’s ultra casual, “Keep it,” had made his heart leap.

David had put it on a chain, since it was too large for his fingers, and still tried not to give the ring, the gesture, more meaning than it had. That night Cook had kissed the back of his neck, right over the chain, and later been unable to take his eyes off the heavy weight against David’s chest as they made love. Now David ripped the chain off his neck, ignoring the slight burn that would replace the memory of Cook’s kiss, and tossed it on the bed they’d shared for the past week, though it seemed like much longer than that since Cook had touched him.

And now David knew why. Cook wanted his freedom; he just hadn’t known how to ask for it. After making him a vampire, giving Cook what he needed was the least David could do. No matter how much it felt as though someone had torn his still beating heart out of his chest.

David huffed a humorless laugh. It had been over two years since his heart had taken its last beat, and still it felt as if it had only just stopped now that he was being forced to let Cook go.

~*~

Two weeks later, after another detour through Utah, David was back in Tulsa. Not to stay, or even to see anyone during the short time he was there, but to try and find some closure.

“What are you doing here?” David forced a calmness into his voice that he didn’t feel.

“Looking for you.”

“Why?” David hadn’t jumped when Cook sat beside him on the bench, but it was a near thing. He’d caught Cook’s scent, but he’d thought it was a figment of his imagination, wishful thinking, or some leftover remnant from when Cook had lived in the apartment building across the street. Never had David imagined it was because Cook was right there.

“Claudia’s worried about you.”

David, who hadn’t turned his head when Cook joined him, was startled into glancing up at that comment. “You talked to Claudia?”

Cook stretched his legs out in front of him and David’s gaze was drawn to the long line of them before he caught himself and turned his attention back to the apartment building across the street.

“She called me after your visit.”

David was surprised that Claudia had called Cook. He hadn’t revealed the details, but he’d told her that they were no longer together. Like a good older sister, she’d given him a shoulder to cry on, and offered to cut off Cook’s balls if she ever saw him again. The offer had been so unexpected that it had shocked a laugh out of him, though it had only made the tears run more freely.

“She made it clear that she’d as soon as stake me as talk to me, but her concern for you was more important than her feelings about me,” Cook said dryly, as if replying to David’s unasked question.

David still wasn’t certain that Cook couldn’t read his mind, though he’d never been able to read Cook’s. And he’d tried.

“I’ll call Claudia and assure her I’m fine,” David said. “You’ve discharged your duty, so you can leave now.”

Cook snorted, but he didn’t say anything. And David didn’t _know_ what to say. He could tell Cook how hurt he’d been, but he already felt pathetic enough. David opened his mouth, and what came out was, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Cook said, sounding surprised, and almost angry at the apology.

“I was a pretty poor excuse for a maker,” David said. “It was like the blind leading the blind. I was so determined not to abandon you, the way I’d felt abandoned, that I didn’t realize I was withholding the one thing you needed most – your freedom.”

“No!” Cook exploded at that. He grabbed David by both shoulders and shook him so hard that David felt the small pop in his neck as his head jerked back with the force of it. “No! That . . . I didn’t . . . .”

Cook stopped trying to speak and just dragged David into an embrace that would’ve challenged his ability to breathe had he still needed to. “Jesus, I’m the one who’s sorry. Don’t apologize. For anything.”

“But,” David said. “You were pulling away, and I just didn’t read the signs right.”

“That’s bullshit,” Cook said, tightening his stranglehold on David as if he’d attempted to escape.

David probably _should’ve_ tried to get away, but Cook smelled really good, and it felt so nice to be held in his arms again that he didn’t really want to.

“I was having . . . issues,” Cook admitted, and David could tell that, even now, it was like pulling teeth for him to speak the words. “But it didn’t have anything to do with you, or with me wanting my freedom.” Cook spat the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

“You didn’t want to be around me anymore,” David said unhappily. “And then I saw . . . .”

Cook sighed heavily. “Yeah. Clearly I shouldn’t have tried to deal with it on my own. The kiss you saw meant _nothing_. Please, believe me. It was just . . . heat of the moment, adrenaline. I don’t know, proving to myself that I still had it. Whatever the hell _it_ is.”

Many of their kisses had been in the heat of the moment, fueled by adrenaline; David wondered if Cook had always been trying to prove that he still had it?

“It was nothing like what I feel for you,” Cook said. “Not even close.”

And then, as if to prove it, Cook placed his fingers beneath David’s chin, tipped his head back, and kissed him. David thought, for just a second, about resisting, but really, who was he even trying to kid here?

David parted his lips and invited Cook into his mouth. Cook sighed, as if he’d feared that David wouldn’t want this, and then he accepted the invitation, sliding his tongue into David’s mouth and exploring it, as if they’d never kissed before and he was just now touching each surface for the first time.

Cook broke the kiss, but only so he could press his face against David’s neck as he clung to him. “You don’t know . . . I was so scared . . . when I got back to the room and you weren’t there.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted . . . .”

“That is _not_ what I wanted. I will never want that,” Cook stated firmly.

“You don’t know that,” David insisted, not trying to be stubborn, just realistic.

“I do know that,” Cook said. “You have some ridiculous notion that I’m stuck with you because you made me, or something, but what you don’t realize is that _you_ are stuck with _me_.” To emphasize his point, Cook poked David in the chest.

“Ow,” David said, frowning as he raised his hand to rub at the spot. He liked the idea of being stuck with Cook, though he thought it should maybe be the slightest bit creepy.

“In a non-stalkery way, of course,” Cook clarified.

David’s eyes went wide. “Oh my gosh, will you stop that!”

“Stop what?” Cook said warily.

“Reading my mind!”

Cook blinked at David, and then he started laughing.

“It’s not funny, Cook,” David said, which only made Cook laugh harder.

David crossed his arms over his chest (which was difficult to do, the way Cook was holding him), and glared at Cook. He waited out the bout of laughter with the air of a martyr, sitting through the hiccups and the tears until he thought the laughter had run its course. “Are you done now?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Cook said with one final hiccup. “God, I love you,” he said, which brought tears to David’s eyes.

“I love you, too,” David said, “but . . . .”

“I know,” Cook groaned. He rubbed one hand through his hair, and kept the other securely tucked around David. “I should never have tried to handle it on my own. I should’ve just talked to you.”

“Is it the holidays?” David asked. He’d totally understand if it was, because it had been hard for him the first year after he’d left home, not being able to share those special days with his family.

Cook huffed a humorless laugh. “No. I mean, you’d think it would be, right? But no. I felt bad when I told my mom I couldn’t make it home for Thanksgiving, but it was almost a relief. That sounds bad, I know, but I don’t mean it that way.”

David didn’t speak, didn’t want to interrupt Cook, but he slipped his hand into Cook’s and squeezed to show that he was listening, and that Cook had his support no matter what. Cook glanced down at their joined hands and squeezed back.

“You know, I think if I told her . . . about me, she’d barely blink an eye. She’d just schedule dinner for after sundown so I could make it.”

David wanted to ask, but forced himself to remain silent and wait for Cook to continue.

“I was being . . . ridiculously selfish,” Cook said. “Instead of being thankful for an opportunity to see my family again, I thought about all the things I _wouldn’t_ be able to do. Play football on the lawn before dinner, watch the games . . . .” Cook shook his head. “But, like I said, that wasn’t the problem. Or, rather, it was a problem that I didn’t want to look at too closely, so I buried it for later.”

“Then what _was_ the problem?” David said, unable to remain silent any longer. “If it wasn’t me, and it wasn’t the holidays . . . .”

“It’s stupid,” Cook said, as if having gotten this far, now he didn’t want to talk about it.

“I’m sure it’s not stupid,” David said supportively. “Because I know you wouldn’t have put me through weeks of he–, heck for something stupid.”

“No pressure then, huh?” Cook said, giving David an amused smile.

“Tell me,” David said, poking Cook in the ribs.

“Oh, hey now,” Cook said, squirming and capturing David’s fingers. “It’s just . . . .” Cook closed his eyes for a moment before speaking. “My birthday’s coming up.”

“Okay,” David said, trying to keep his voice even.

“See? I told you it was stupid,” Cook said, then continued, “But it didn’t feel stupid at the time. It felt huge, like, I was going to be a year older, but I would never _get_ a year older. For some reason, that sort of freaked me out. And don’t apologize,” Cook said.

David pressed his lips together to keep back the automatic apology, then mimed turning an invisible key in an imaginary lock, before throwing away said key.

Cook rolled his eyes. “I don’t need your apologies. I just need you to listen to me, even when I don’t make any sense, or when I’m being an idiot and not actually talking.” Cook sighed. “Okay, you can talk now.”

“I would’ve thought that the idea of never aging would be the plus side of being a vampire. I mean, not for me, of course, because I’ll always look like a teenager, but for someone older like you . . . .” Cook growled, which made David giggle nervously. “I mean, at least you’ll never lose your hair.”

“Yeah,” Cook said, as if trying to convince himself of the benefit. “I won’t get sick, or age, or die, but I’ll outlive all my friends, my family. When I started thinking about it like that, it didn’t feel like a bonus, and even though I was going to live forever (barring some unforeseen circumstance), I needed to prove to myself that I was still alive. Stupid, huh?”

David shook his head. “I would never think the things that bother you are stupid.”

Cook snorted. “And that’s why you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

David blushed. “I’m not really. I left you when you needed me. I told myself I’d never do that.”

“I hurt you,” Cook said, excusing David’s leaving. “I never meant to, but I did, and I wasn’t being honest with you.”

“I should’ve _made_ you talk to me,” David said. “What?” he asked when he saw Cook’s raised eyebrow. “I’ve got two younger sisters, I can be very firm.”

“I’m sure you can,” Cook said, fighting the twitch at the corners of his lips.

“You suck.” David pouted.

Cook gently curled his hand around David’s throat. “I’d like to.”

The brush of Cook’s thumb, the rough timbre of his voice, reached down and wrapped themselves around David’s balls. “Okay,” he said breathlessly.

“Later,” Cook promised. “Someplace where I don’t have to worry about an audience.”

David took a quick glance around. “But there’s no one here.”

“Archie, Archie, Archie,” Cook said, his voice slithering down David’s spine. “What a naughty boy you’ve become.”

David blushed again. Cook tightened his hand around David’s throat for a second, then released him.

“Which reminds me.” Cook reached into his pocket and dangled the ring David had left on the bed in front of his face.

David got choked up at the sight of the ring. “I-I broke the chain.”

“I got a new one,” Cook said, not looking at David when he said it.

“Oh,” David breathed. “Will you . . . ?”

“Yes,” Cook said, sounding relieved, as though he’d feared that David wouldn’t want to wear it.

Cook fastened the chain around David’s neck, and David grasped the ring in his hand. He’d missed the small weight of it against his chest.

“Thank you.”

Cook cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.”

Cook leaned back against the bench, his arm across David’s shoulders. They were silent for a moment as David contemplated the meaning of the ring, and Cook coming after him.

“How did you find me?”

Cook shrugged. “I don’t know, I just tried to think about where you might go after you left Claudia. What about you? What brought you back to Tulsa?”

“I needed to say goodbye,” David said.

“And _that_ is why your sister called me,” Cook said.

David frowned in confusion.

“You said goodbye to her and it scared the crap out of her.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean it like that. I just. I didn’t know when I’d see her again, if ever, but not because of that.”

“What were you saying goodbye to here?”

“Us. It was harder than you’d think.”

“It better have been,” Cook said.

David smiled and leaned into Cook’s side.

“So,” Cook said, trying to sound casual. “Chicago was kind of a bust; where do you want to go next?”

“I don’t know,” David said. When he’d been on his own, he’d thought about maybe heading to the Pacific Northwest. He’d figured that the prevalent rain there would match his mood. “Where would you like to go?”

“I was thinking, uh, how would you like to meet my mom?” Cook said, his voice cracking a little bit. “I was thinking about calling her, maybe going home for my birthday. She likes you,” he added, as if David might need the added incentive.

David smiled. “I’d love to meet your mom. But . . . are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m . . . I’m just really tired of lying to the people that mean the most to me.”

“I understand. Maybe, if things go well, we can stay for Christmas,” David offered.

“Maybe,” Cook said, noncommittal, but he sounded pleased that David had made the offer. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“When’s your birthday?”

“Oh. I, um, I haven’t celebrated my birthday since I left home.”

“Well, that’s going to change,” Cook said. “So?”

“Oh, uh, the twenty-eighth.”

“The twenty-eighth . . . of . . . December?”

David nodded.

“Our birthdays are in the same month? Just, like, a week apart? How did we never know this about each other?”

David shrugged.

“Well, then, change of plans. Maybe we’ll stay in KC through the New Year, celebrate your birthday, too.”

“You don’t have to do that,” David said. The first birthday he’d spent away from home had been kind of rough, missing his parents, and brother and sisters, but he’d come to terms with his birthday not being all that special a day anymore, now that he was a vampire. Anyway, the more vivid memory these days was the day he’d been made into a vampire.

“Bullsh–, crap,” Cook said at David’s look. “My mom’ll be thrilled to have someone else to fuss over,” he added, as if it was a done deal and Beth had already accepted the fact that they were both vampires and would welcome them into her home.

“Okay,” David said, liking the light in Cook’s eyes too much to want to burst his bubble by being all logical and reasonable. Besides, maybe Cook was right, and his mother would barely blink an eye.

“I was thinking,” Cook said, and David could tell by his tone that he was changing the subject. “I mean, we both sing, and you play the piano, and I know you’ve got some songs written in that notebook you hide in your backpack . . . I was thinking, maybe we could head out to LA.”

“LA sounds good,” David said, but he would have said that about anyplace Cook suggested. It really didn’t matter to him where they were, so long as they were together.

“But first,” Cook said, swallowing nervously. “I’d like to go see Neal and Andy. Tell them . . . about, um . . . .”

David found Cook’s hand and squeezed it again.

“Just them, and my mom, and Andrew,” Cook said.

“Okay,” David said.

David wasn’t certain how Cook’s friends and family would take the news, but he couldn’t be sorry he’d chosen to be supportive rather than the voice of reason when Cook smiled at him, because it lit up the night brighter than any sun.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Mucho thanks to princess10388, who took on beta duties when my regular beta was swamped with RL stuff, and to maerhys for finding the time to read it over for me despite her RL obligations. I didn’t take all of their advice because, well, I’m stubborn, but their comments and corrections were all appreciated. All remaining errors are my own. Also, huge thanks to aohatsu for the gorgeous artwork!
> 
> Art Post at [kink_bigbang](http://kink-bigbang.livejournal.com/65183.html) or at [blue_scribbles](http://blue-scribbles.livejournal.com/59675.html).


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